Page 53 of Words I Couldn't Say
IFLOATED ON CLOUDS FORthe rest of the day. The girls found shoes and accessories to go along with dresses, while their moms enjoyed mimosas and bloody marys, taking turns discussing how they kept the spice alive after forty. As nervous as I was about being public with Tucker, I couldn’t have been happier when that conversation was over. If I had to hear another word about the latest erotica-novel-turned-movie, I was on the verge of promising to star in one just to shut my mom up. Then again, when Lucy swore by some contraption called a Wartenberg wheel, I was intrigued enough to covertly type it into a search engine and buy with one-click from Amazon.
By the time we returned home, all of my worries of spending the evening with my family and my new boyfriend in one place had dissipated. Family dinner with Tucker was in three words:simply the best. It was evident he fit in just as perfectly as he had back when we were kids. And why wouldn’t he? This was normal for Tucker. Over the years, even while I’d been gone, he and Tanner had spent one night a week eating with the family. My parents had stepped in and acted as surrogate parents. They’d gone to Tanner’s football games, helped carpool whenever Tucker needed them to, and even managed to embarrass Tanner by chaperoning his high school dances, too. For him, more than it was for me, being there in my childhood home was normal.
This was his family. My heart leaped into my throat, and tears sprang to my eyes.
Did that mean I could be his family, too?
Hope stirred in my belly. Tucker’s words and actions ever since we had reconnected told me that it wasn’t only possible, it was pretty much a done deal. He’d crept back into my heart and repossessed the place he’d never actually left, consuming me wholly as we’d been unable to do before. But there was still some small part of me that wondered if it was too good to be true. That stupid, annoying, niggling doubt was waiting for the other shoe to drop. For Tucker to realize I hadn’t been worth waiting for. That this was all too fast, too simple, and when all was said and done, Tucker’s affections had been more nostalgic than genuine earth-shattering, once-in-a-lifetime love.
But, when he took my hand under the table and placed it on his thigh as if it belonged there, all doubt fled. I didn’t know why that one small act was enough, but there was something so soothing about that touch. The setting. Glancing around and seeing the table filled with those I loved most in the world, I knew it wasn’t a fluke.
Because the truth was that it had been fast. It had been easy. Because our hearts were connected as one, and we’d already wasted too much time apart to spend our time now playing games. No matter the time or the distance, he’d always been mine. I’d always been his. I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, Tucker was there to stay.
I just had to show him that I was, too.
After my parents had died and Ava had left, to say I was utterly devastated would have been a massive understatement. Sometimes, when I lay awake in bed at night, I wondered how I’d ever gotten through those years without losing my mind. There I’d been, eighteen years old and unexpectedly the guardian of an angry thirteen-year-old kid. Not only had I been grieving over the loss of my parents, but I’d also had no idea how I was supposed to go on without the love of my life by my side. She’d been there, a piece of me, the most integral piece of me, since the moment I’d been born. Every single momentous experience in my life, she’d been a part of. How was I supposed to go on after such a devastating loss? But how could I not? So, in the end, I pushed my grief aside and focused solely on my brother, and my father’s business, throwing myself into both in a way that would make my parents proud if they were somewhere smiling down on me.
I wouldn’t have made it without the Banks family. They all but took Tanner and me in, even when I tried to push them away at first. Sierra extended an invitation for us to eat with them every night, but I wanted to prove to myself and to everyone that I could take care of my brother all on my own. I wanted to do my parents proud, so every night, after a long day spent in the sun, hammering, hanging drywall, and pouring concrete foundations, I’d pick out some off-the-wall recipe, hit up the grocery store, and then haul Tanner’s ass into the kitchen, where we’d make dinner together and catch up on each other’s days.
Turned out to be a great way for us to bond without focusing on what we were missing. It also helped keep us busy in the lonely hours of the evening when the house was too quiet no matter how many video games we played or the number of action movies we watched to drown the silence out.
At first, we avoided Mom’s cookbooks. It was too soon and we had too many fond memories of Mom spending her days in the kitchen to cook for “her boys,” as she’d liked to call us. Nothing had made her happier than cooking. Dad had often commented that she needed to start a restaurant, but she’d always laugh him off, place a smacking kiss on his cheek, and tease that she had a hard enough time keeping the three of us fed. The last thing she needed was an entire restaurant full of hungry people.
I think that was why Tanner and I spent so much time in there. It was a way to feel close to her even if we weren’t using her own recipes. It was an unspoken ritual, and the more intricate recipes we tried, the longer we spent in the kitchen. It was therapeutic for both of us. We talked about everything and nothing, and as the weeks passed, Tanner’s anger seemed to dissipate. Heck, the first time I heard him laugh after the funeral was over lumpy gnocchi, and it was like music to my ears. And the best meal we’d ever made.
That is until one night after a tough day on the job site. All I wanted was a beer, a pizza, and a long, hot shower in which I’d picture what Ava would be doing if she had been there with me. Before I could enjoy any of that, I walked into the kitchen and stopped dead in my tracks at the sight of my brother standing at the counter, tapping his finger on one of Mom’s favorite Italian cookbook.
I didn’t even have to ask which recipe he was reading. Even from across the room, I saw the red speckles of dried marinara dotted on the page. It had to be Mom’s famous lasagna—my favorite dish, and one I hadn’t eaten since she’d died.
“What’s all this?” I asked, eyeing all the ingredients strewn about on the island in the middle of our kitchen.
Tanner glanced up and saw me standing across from him. His lips turned up into a half smile It didn’t quite reach his eyes, but it was better than the perpetual scowl he’d had since the funeral. Then his eyes brightened.
“You’ve been working your ass off, Tucker. And I know you’re still sad about Ava. So I wanted to cheer you up. Sierra took me to the grocery store.”
I simply stood there as my vision suddenly swam with tears. I cleared my throat then reached across the island to flick him on the forehead. “Don’t say ass.”
He grinned. “What are you going to do? Ground me?”
“Don’t tempt me,” I retorted. We both knew working on a construction site had led to my saying much, much worse. Our mother had prided herself on a clean vocabulary, something she’d instilled in at least one of her sons.
As Tanner chattered about his school day, we followed the recipe to a T and ended up enjoying the most delicious meal we’d had since before our parents had passed.
That night turned a corner for us. Once a week, we’d take turns picking a recipe from Mom’s book, not only emulating them to the best of our ability, but, over time, little quips of what Mom would do if she had been there. What substitutions she would have made if need be. How many times she’d have slapped Dad’s grabby hands away from her chocolate chip cookies fresh from the oven. Each meal prepared led to more recollections. We were bonding by celebrating the memory of our parents. That’s when I knew we were going to be okay.
Still, Sierra had insisted we join the Banks family dinners every Sunday evening, and I hadn’t been able to say no. So, for the last five years, Tanner and I had been there, diligently, just like we were part of the family. Because that’s how the Bankses made us feel. Like we were right at home.
Being there with Ava, however, was a brand-new experience. She wasn’t just my best friend. She wasmygirl.
Just as the thought crossed my mind and a smile crossed my lips, I felt a hard kick to my shin. I grunted and looked up. Pacey was sitting across from me, scowling in my direction. If anyone ever tells you six-year-olds aren’t terrifying, don’t believe it. They haven’t seen a little Banks boy pointing a butter knife in your direction with a menacing glower on his face.
